Helping Hand, Willing Heart
by FalconFate
Summary: River never expected to be trusted by Fury to help rehabilitate the Winter Soldier, who was apparently once known as James Buchanan 'Bucky' Barnes. But she was. And yet she also never expected to be of any help. Was she? Only one way to find out… Rated T because it's based on that kind of movie.
1. Chapter 1

**Hi. I only own the storyline and the OCs. Everything else belongs to Marvel and Stan Lee.**

River sighed in exasperation as she leaned up against her bedroom wall, holding her phone to one ear. "I really don't have time for this, Fury," she said into it, tone clipped with annoyance.

_"I never said you did; just be there."_

"Fine. When?"

_"Within the next hour."_

"And a half. You woke me up."

_"River—"_

"_And a half, _Fury. No less, and no more." River smirked at the annoyed growl on the other end. "Oh, and don't count on your 'trackers' finding a home on my persons." Taking the device from her ear, River ended the call.

Recently, Fury had been getting more and more annoying. She supposed that with the threat of the Winter Soldier hanging over everyone's heads in Washington, he expected her to simply lay down her independency and work for him.

Yeah, right.

She entered the medium-sized kitchen of her smallish apartment, filling the kettle with water and setting it on the stove. She quickly grabbed a mug and a pot of green tea leaves, popped two pieces of bread into the toaster, grabbed a jar of apple-grape jelly and a small white plate. Then, as the kettle started whistling, she poured the hot water into the mug, spooned in some of the tea leaves and put the pot back in its corner of the cabinet. Tasks done, River left the tea to steep and went to wake herself up in the bathroom.

When River exited, the mug of tea had steeped, filling the air with a sweet, relaxing scent, and the toast had popped up, the smell of warm bread adding to the delicious-smelling air. Quickly, she put the two pieces of bread onto her plate, spread them with jelly, and sat down to a quick breakfast.

By the time she was done, she had another fifteen minutes until she needed to leave. Using the time to dress, she chose a simple outfit that wouldn't hamper her movements if she ended up needing to move fast: a black tank top underneath a red shirt, a comfortable pair of athletic pants (she had a thing against jeans), her black leather jacket and a pair of tall, supple-heeled boots. Brushing her long black hair into a French braid, River deemed herself ready to go.

So she went.

It only took about a minute to hail a cab, which dropped her off outside the Stark tower. Fury always seemed to want her to meet the Avengers; God knows how many times he'd tried. So far, though, she'd only met Tony Stark (who gave her a migraine at the best of times, and a desire to give him a broken nose at others), Bruce Banner, whom she liked, and Natasha Romanov, who was as close to a sister as one could get for River. The rest of the team were scattered all over the place, handling their own problems.

So now, when River had awoken to a call from Fury saying he wanted to meet with her at Stark towers to 'discuss' things, she knew from experience that it meant, _"I want you to work for me as an undercover agent, and then I might have you join the Avengers so you can spy on them for me." _Though he never actually said that. But she could hear it, like an undercurrent.

Entering the building, River nodded to the holographic woman sitting behind the desk. It smiled, saying, "Welcome back, Miss River. Mister Stark, Director Fury and Agent Barton are waiting for you on the twenty-third floor.

"Thanks," River answered, thinking to herself, _Well, I suppose I'm meeting the Hawk boy today._

She took the elevator up, even though she usually preferred stairs. Too many floors, not enough time. When River finally reached the twenty-third floor, elevator doors sliding open with a _ping_, it was to find Fury, Stark, and another guy, a blond, that she didn't know—but she assumed this was Agent Clint Barton, the famous Hawkeye—squabbling. Fury, dominant as ever, was standing with his back to the window (and, consequently, the sun, making him little more than a silhouette, hiding the bruises and scrapes that River knew were the Winter Soldier's work), crouched over the polished-to-mirror-like-reflection meeting table, apparently having recently slammed his fist on it. Stark, leaning back with his feet on the table, looked bored and amused at the same time. Barton looked much the same, sitting in a similar position, bow leaned against his chair and gaze staring sightlessly out the window.

As River stepped off the elevator, all three men looked up. She raised an eyebrow skeptically. "Fury," she said, exasperated, "if you wanted me here so that I could back you up on whatever your trying to get Stark to do, you can either tell me what's going on or I'm out."

Fury glared. "Miss River," he said, "I have a feeling you won't actually need to be smart once you know what's going on."

"And?"

Stark sat up. "I'm guessing that they haven't yet put out the news that Cap captured the Winter Soldier, who was actually Cap's old friend from the past, Bucky, who had been brainwashed by a guy named Alexander Pierce—who, in reality, is actually a guy named Johann Schmidt, or the Red Skull."

River frowned. "So… just about everyone from the 40's is coming back to life?"

"Everyone who was put in the history books, yeah," confirmed the billionaire. "We're bringing the Soldier up to New York, try and put him in rehab."

"Aaaand you want me to help," River finished for him.

"Yep."

"Why?

Fury answered. "Because you yourself are in a similar situation, Miss River."

River scowled. "Okay, first off," she said, holding up her hands, "enough with the 'Miss' thing. It's annoying. Second, how do you factor that someone like _me _could help him?"

"We all have our reasons," Fury stated.

River scowled even more, but when she caught a weird look from Hawkeye—one that was at the same time calculating, slightly hopeful and slightly cynical—she sighed. "Fine. But don't say I didn't warn you if I'm no help at all," she said sharply.

**Well? Please review and tell me what you think so far!**

**FF **


	2. Chapter 2

**Hey, I'm back. Everything but River and the story belong to Marvel and Stan Lee.**

**A review reply to Guest: She's not an agent. I thought I clarified that… she's just doing a favor for Fury.**

**Review reply to nicky: HEY! You found me!**

River was at a loss for words. Three days after Stark, Fury and Barton had asked her to help with the Winter Soldier's recovery, Captain America had returned to New York with his captive. S.H.I.E.L.D. had immediately put him in a cell about the size of River's bedroom, bound with adimantium beams but padded with… something. Captain America—who introduced himself to River as Steve—was always worrying over his old friend. When River had seen the guy, she was met with a piercing ice-blue and ice-cold glare. Apparently, he could see through one-way mirrors. The glare gave her the creeps, especially when it blinked in what looked like confusion, and their owner shook his head and stepped back.

Definitely weird.

River sighed and leaned back against the wall, watching the occupant of the tiny cell pace and growl. She caught a worried look from Steve as she did so. "So?" he asked. "Can you help him?"

"I don't know," she answered honestly. "I'm not actually a therapist. How has he reacted to you?"

"Horribly. He either tries to stay well away from me, or he tries to attack me. The brief breakthrough moment that he had in DC seems to have just… disappeared. He's broken."

"And it breaks you to see it," River guessed. The super-soldier nodded miserably. River sighed again. "The first thing I would suggest is you going home and—"

"No. I have to stay. I have to make sure he's all right. Tell Fury whatever you want, but I'm staying," Steve insisted. River gave him a glare. "And worry so much you put yourself six feet under? Nuh-uh. Either you're going home, or I'm knocking you out and getting Stark to get you to sleep. You may be Captain America, but nothing is invincible. Not even you. Oh, and I don't work for Fury. He's been trying unsuccessfully to get me to, though."

For a moment, the man looked shocked. Then he chuckled, saying, "I've only known one other person who had a will and a mouth like yours."

"Who?" River asked curiously.

"Ah… a friend Bucky and I met in high school. I wasn't exactly what I am now back then, and a group of bullies had cornered me when Buck was in another class, and she actually smacked them. She stayed with me the rest of the day, even walked me home to make sure they didn't try to ambush me," he answered, smiling at the memory. "Her name was Rhiannon, but we always called her Rhia."

"Nice friend," River murmured. "Now go home before I make good on my threats!" she said sharply. Steve smiled, but he had a worried look for his friend in his eyes as he left. As soon as he was out of sight, River's smile vanished as she slid down the wall, putting her head in her hands. There was a reason she had only one name, and it was the reason Fury put her up to this job. She didn't remember what her real name was.

* * *

After Steve left, one of the scientists in the building came down to see if any progress had been made. When he saw there was none that they could see, he sighed and suggested that River follow her own advice and go home.

"Okay, look, Dr.… what was it again?"

"Rifton," Dr. Rifton replied, looking miffed.

"Right. Listen, I might not have known this guy before he was assassinified, but I now know someone who did. And I'm not leaving unless this guy gets a good meal, because if he doesn't you'll have Captain America, up close and personal, to deal with. And frankly, I'd back him up," River snapped.

Dr. Rifton scowled. "We will make sure that the prisoner is properly fed."

"Good. Because I am _not_ leaving until he is."

Rifton glowered angrily, but turned away.

They managed to put the meal in the cell without trouble, but the man that had been the Winter Soldier treated it like it was radioactive. Finally, irritated, River snapped into the intercom, "It's not poisoned or drugged!"

He jumped, dropping into a defensive crouch. River sighed in exasperation. "Look, you might not believe me, but your survival does matter in this. If we wanted you dead or unconscious, we would have gassed you ages ago. You can either eat, or we will knock you out and shove it down your throat. I'd have thought you'd have some device on your arm that would tell you whether or not something is safe to eat and drink, but I guess I overestimated you, didn't I?" Locating the source of the noise, the man looked at her, tilting his head. He relaxed, straightening slightly, eyeing her curiously. River almost thought she saw what looked like a faint spark of humor in his eyes. Finally, he seemed to nod to himself, and sat on the mattress, bringing the small, flimsy plate over, and began to eat.

Satisfied, River looked up to see that a group of scientists had come over, and were all gaping at her incredulously."What?" River asked, shrugging. "I can be very persuasive."

One of the scientists—River recognized him as one of the ones who had brought the Winter Soldier to New York from DC—stepped forward. "You do realize, ma'am, that no one, not even Captain Rogers, has ever yet convinced him to freely eat anything we gave him? We had to do just as you've threatened to make him consume anything."

"Well then I'm glad Fury put me on the job," River replied sarcastically. "It was kind of obvious, judging by his reaction," she pointed out. She grabbed the small backpack she had brought. "It's late, so I'll be going. Let me know when Rogers gets here tomorrow, because I have a feeling he'll be here at around three or four in the morning."

* * *

When River came in the next day, she found her way to the Winter Soldier's cell and was instantaneously greeted with a crushing hug.

"ACK! ROGERS–!" she gasped out.

"Sorry!" the Captain exclaimed, setting her down. "It's just… Gretchen, one of the scientists, told me how you got him to eat last night. I just wanted to say… thank you. Thank you so much."

River raised an eyebrow, rubbing one arm. "You're welcome. It wasn't all that hard, really."

"I think you're the only one who could have done it," he pointed out.

"Maybe. Or maybe he just needed someone that would point out the obvious, without skirting around the subject, trying to sugar-coat it," River said dryly.

Steve grimaced. "If you found out your best friend, whom you thought was dead, was still alive and had been turned against you, only recently being able to break free of whatever mind-play Schmdit had him under, believe me, you will definitely try to sugar-coat it."

"Let's agree to disagree, shall we? How's he doing this morning?"

Steve immediately grew more somber. "Better. He wasn't hitting everything, and there weren't any more dent marks than usual. But… he still doesn't react well when I try to talk to him or go in there."

"So don't."

The Captain looked taken aback. "What?"

River gave him a look. "You heard me. Don't. Just leave him be. Has he eaten breakfast?"

"Hasn't touched it. Why should I leave him be, exactly?" he demanded. Sighing, River rolled her eyes. "Because I highly doubt you're doing any good. He was sent to assassinate you, remember? You're probably riling up some assassin mind-set. That is not going to help in any way, shape or form, believe me."

"And how would you know?"

"Logic. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to see if I can pull off getting him to eat again." River pushed past him, setting her bag on the bench again.

The man on the other side of the supposedly-one-way mirror looked up at the noise. River frowned to see the plate on the table beside him. Steve hadn't been lying; it was literally untouched. Picking up the microphone for the intercom, she said, "If you're trying to impress me by holding long fasts, it isn't working." This time, River was certain she could see a glimmer of amusement in his eyes. She rolled her own. "If you think I'm funny, you can laugh. You shouldn't keep it in; it's unhealthy. Might slowly build up, and then explode when you're least expecting it."

He raised an eyebrow skeptically, but River could see a smirk pulling desperately at the corner of his normally-frowning mouth. "That's it," she encouraged. "It starts with a smile and ends with trying to catch your breath because you laughed so hard. Am I right?" He shook his head, but she saw he was still trying desperately to smother his mirth. _Well,_ she thought, _at least we're not completely hopeless_. "Here, I'll make a deal with you," she said. "If you want to see a smile from me—don't pretend I don't know you can see me!—it would be greatly appreciated if you could eat your breakfast. Do you really want to waste it? Besides, who doesn't like biscuits? They gave you two!"

**Heehee. Please review, it would be appreciated!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Hallo! I _only _own River and the storyline. Everything else belongs to Stan Lee and Marvel.**

**REVIEW REPLIES! Guest—Skye: Thank you! Guest—Guest: Thanks :D Well, here you go!**

It had been three weeks since the Winter Soldier had been brought in. Since then, River had noticed that he didn't seem to sleep well. She would come down, and he would look up, and she was always shocked to see large dark circles under his eyes every time. With every passing day, they seemed to grow a little bigger.

When she questioned the scientists, they answered that he would lie down at night, but he didn't seem to sleep. River wondered if that was a side-effect of brainwashing. Or was it something else? When she met up with Natasha one Wednesday for one of their lunch meet-ups, River was surprised to learn that the Winter Soldier had been one of her trainers in the Red Room, along with someone else called the Nightwitch. River frowned at this. "Who was the Nightwitch?" she'd asked.

Natasha had visibly grown darker. "An assassin that surpassed the Winter Soldier's ability to not feel. She was like a mountain—unmovable, unbreakable, unshakable—but then, when you least expected it, she'd lash out and kill you with three simple moves. The Nightwitch was… reserved, saved for missions that didn't need gathered intel. Several of the most mysterious murders in the world's history of the past few decades were done by her. I was actually the only trainee of hers that survived."

River shuddered. "Not someone you'd want to meet down a dark alley, then," she'd guessed.

"_Definitely _not," Natasha had agreed fervently.

The name Nightwitch sent a shiver of ice down River's spine, and she wondered if the mysterious assassin had something to do with her own past. She'd finished her meal and said her goodbyes to Natasha and headed back to the building where the Winter Soldier was being held soon after their conversation.

As River descended the stairs, she heard shouts from below. Angry, terrified and surprised shouts. Immediately, River was on her guard as she quickened her pace.

After coming down two flights of stairs, River stopped as she heard heavy, booted feet running up the stairs _towards _her. She gave an inward yelp of surprise as the Winter Soldier, of all people, came barreling towards her around the bend, but swiftly correlated herself, shouting, "What are you _doing_?!"

He stopped, jerking back as if she had slapped him. River could see a wild, panicked look in his eyes, and instantly knew that he wasn't entirely _there._ He wasn't the Winter Soldier, but he wasn't the sullen man who had almost smiled three weeks ago, either. He was breathing heavily, practically panting, and he stumbled backwards—fortunately, there weren't any steps for him to fall down—into the wall behind him, hands going up to either side of his head as he slid down it. River quietly descended the last few steps to the landing.

She stopped when she heard moaning. _Nightmares, _she thought. _That's why he hasn't been sleeping well. _Gently, kneeling down, River reached for one hand—the flesh-and-blood one—taking it in her own. The Soldier's eyes were shut tight, but he didn't react to the touch.

Suddenly, without warning, he shouted—a wordless scream of pain, so filled with hurt and loss it threw a wrench in River's own heart. Quietly, almost without thinking, she wrapped her arms around him, holding him in a silent embrace. She was surprised when he shuddered, but relaxed into it, practically burying his face in her black hair, trembling, broken. River closed her eyes as she held him, humming a wordless tune.

She opened her eyes again as she heard footsteps running up the stairs, and wasn't entirely surprised to see Steve barreling around the corner with two other agents. All three stopped at what River thought must have been a strange sight—the Winter Soldier, close to breaking down in the arms of sharp-tongued River. She saw Steve's face contort, saw the pain and loss on his features. He knelt beside them, resting a hesitant hand on the broken man's shoulder.

The ex-assassin didn't move, but tensed subtly. River whispered in his ear, "You can trust him. He's a friend." The Winter Soldier shuddered slightly, but relaxed, taking his face from out of her hair to look at Steve.

After a long moment, he finally spoke.

"Hey, punk."

**Well. I'm leaving that there for now. I might post another chapter… if at least _five _people leave a nice, preferably-filled-with-constructive-criticism review.**

**FF**


	4. Chapter 4

**I only own River and the story, everything else belongs to Marvel and Stan Lee—who is awesome.**

**REVIEW REPLIES: Guest: Yes, I know. I feel like I'm out of the loop when people don't review, and it really makes me sad that people follow or favorite and don't tell me _WHY _they took the time to do it. It's annoying. And it hurts. Hope this makes you understand better. And I'll say the same to all the other people out there who have read this! Also, about the MJ bit… it's a brave face. You'd have to read it to understand, mm'kay? Besides, I highly doubt you want a certain Peter Parker to hear that.**

**Guest: Thank you :)**

**Guest: Aw, you don't have to do that :D **

**Guest: Why thank you!**

_"Hey, punk."_

Steve cried out and wrapped his own arms around his old friend, half-laughing, half-sobbing as Bucky—no longer the Winter Soldier—embraced him back. "Bucky… oh my God, _Bucky! _You're back… _you're back…_"

"And I'm here to stay this time, punk," Bucky replied hoarsely. "I'm here to stay…"

Neither man noticed as River, smiling sadly, slipped back up the stairs. The agents were too shocked by what had happened, keeping their focus on the reunited pair, to stop her as she left.

* * *

River left the building, wincing as the sunlight hit her eyes. There was a chilly wind today, and she had to clutch at the hems of her leather jacket to keep it around herself. Fortunately, it was lined with fleece, so River knew she wouldn't freeze. She made her way down the street, against the wind, heading for a small coffeeshop around the corner.

When she reached it, River checked briefly to make sure it was still open and pushed the door inward, blinking sharply at the _ping! _of the bell. The man with the tanned complexion and dark dreadlocks tied back in a ponytail at the counter looked up. "'Ey, River! Glad you could stop by!"

River smiled. "Good to see you too, Brent."

"Aw, come on, does it _always _have to be the last name?"

Laughing, River replied, "Oh, please, you know me."

Tobias Brent grinned, showing off straight white teeth. The tattoo of a curling viper on his throat seemed to wiggle slightly at the movement. "Good to see you smile. Like, really smile. You haven't done that in a while," he said philosophically. "Someone run off with your heart and forget to return it?"

River snorted. "Unlike you, I don't give even half of my heart away. I keep it shut up tight, making everyone believe it's nonexistent," she sang.

"Well, it works. Too well."

"Aw, is poor baby Bwent heartbwoken because his best customer won't sleep with him?" River teased.

Brent laughed, tossing his head back. "Nah, like you say, I only give out half of my heart. Though, if you're offering, I wouldn't say no," he said with a sly wink.

River deadpanned. "I may have come here to cheer myself up, but that's the only reason. And the best way to cheer me up is something only you can make, jerk."

"And don't you forget it!" Brent cried, grabbing cups and flipping multiple switches on the coffeemakers.

Brent's Broken Mugs was the warmest, homeliest and most cheerful place that River knew. The service was good, which was a plus, but the best thing about the BBM (as friends of the owner liked to call it) was the One and Only. Its base was black coffee, but it had sweet herbs and tangy spices that made it impossible for people like River to resist. Multiple ingredients were foreign, and Brent was often gone long weekends to personally pick up packages of them. Several times he had brought back souvenirs for his friends. Once, when he went to Russia to pick up a rare spice, he came back with a gift for River: a beautiful choker of gray diamonds, set in gold, accented with small dark amethysts—her favorite gemstone.

River had had only one opportunity to wear it.

Other times, he had brought back fruits and seasonings or recipes. River always loved the fruits he would bring after coming back from tropical places. Often Natasha tried to question her about her actual relationship with Brent, but all she could say was that he was a nice friend, but nothing more. Then she would retaliate with questions about Clint—which Natasha always skipped away from.

River was jolted from her thoughts as Brent set down the mug in front of her before sliding into the booth across the table. "So… want to talk about it?"

Sighing, River shook her head. "Can't. Not allowed to."

Brent smirked. "Since when have you ever really followed the rules?"

River sipped at the coffee, savoring the tangy sweetness. "This is different."

"How?"

"If I were to tell you that, I'd be talking about it."

"P'raps you need to."

River sighed. "Maybe, but if I did, I'd be betraying the trust of multiple people—and while I don't entirely trust a few of them, some of the others are almost worthy of being my friends."

"Which, in my opinion, is something you need—desperately," Brent said forcefully. Before River could protest, he continued. "I'm not sure I actually count—sure, you actually talk to me, because I was nice to you when you were being a grouch and making sure everyone else avoided you. I just have your respect, which I appreciate, because, c'mon, I'm awesome. However, I think you need some real friends whom you can trust with your secrets."

Biting her lip, River considered his words. "You should be a sage," she murmured. "I'm just not sure I can go back, and that's usually where I meet them. Besides, my job there is finished in my eyes."

Brent eyed her cynically. "Hmm. Well, does your martial arts buddy—Natalie, wasn't it?—know about it? You could talk with her."

River shifted uncomfortably. "Yes. Not sure I want the awkward questions and sentimental assurances. Besides, I won't need to meet with her for another week at least. Unless she somehow gets a hold of my tae kwon do schedule." She sighed a third time.

"Hey, stop with the depressing sighing already! It's making _me _depressed."

* * *

Back at the lab/prison block, Bucky was being released into Steve's custody. Bucky was just glad to see sunlight again, while Steve was practically bouncing on the balls of his feet. He had missed his friend, more than he could really contemplate. When he had fallen from the train, it felt like a part of Steve had fallen with him. It was especially painful when Rhia, who had been an old friend and had recently become Bucky's longest-standing girlfriend, threw herself into the East River not long after Steve's last mission, which had put him on ice.

They hadn't seen River since the incident on the stairs, and Steve hadn't yet had a chance to thank the raven. Natasha—whom Bucky had insisted to call Natalia before she had reprimanded him sharply—hadn't seen her since that day either.

But for now, Bucky was getting out, and that was all that mattered to Steve. He had a room—well, more of a whole floor—at the Stark Tower, and he was willing to let Bucky stay there. After exiting the building, a sleek black car pulled up to the curb, waiting to transport them to the Tower.

Then they were met with a problem. Stark. He welcomed them, either ignoring or not noticing Bucky's shocked look. Then he toured them around the Tower, introducing him to whomever else was there at the time—Bruce Banner, Clint Barton and his pilot, Bobbi Morse were a few—and showing them Cap's quarters. Bucky immediately relaxed once they were there. Steve and Tony had struggled to find things from their era, from Howard Stark's old photos to trinkets from the antique shops around town.

Then he saw one of the pictures. It was one of Howard's, not long before the mission that had ended in Bucky's fall. Stark was in the center, one arm around Steve (who was in full costume) and the other around Bucky. Steve had Peggy Carter close beside him, smiling serenely, and on Bucky's arm, the sepia tone unable to hide the slightly mischievous glint in her violet eyes, was Rhia. It had shocked Bucky when he realized how much River reminded him of her, from the dark hair to the eye color. In this picture, Rhia's hair was maybe shoulder-length, and curled, while River's was much longer and straighter. But he knew it was impossible that River was Rhia; Rhia was long dead. He remembered that she had had a sister, a few years younger. River was probably Rhia's niece or grand-niece. He hadn't had an opportunity to ask.

Carefully, he set the photo back on its stand, knowing he would probably steal it away to his room—wherever that ended up being.

**Well… review, please, but be warned: ask me no questions, and I'll tell you no lies.**

**FF**


	5. Chapter 5

**I only own River and the story, everything else belongs to Marvel and Stan Lee—who is awesome. **

_Punch. Whirl. Roundabout kick. Punch. Hit. Strike. Duck, dodge, whirl again. Backflip—twist—kick—charge—whirl—hit—dive—kick—crouch. Breathless, heart racing, __adrenaline pumping, blood rushing, breathing hard, sweating, hair in face, eyes bright. Unstoppable force of nature. Attack again._

Natasha walked into the dojo, nodding to the fierce-looking girl behind the counter. The teen had her auburn hair pulled back in a high pony, showing off the curling black tattoo of a dragon on her neck. Rika, daughter of the manager, nodded back serenely. "She's in the room," she said quietly.

Natasha nodded in thanks and walked to the back, opening the door that led to the S.H.I.E.L.D. issued back room. She could hear someone back there already, probably beating the punching bag to a pulp. And there was only one person who knew how to hand out hits and punches that fast—other than Natasha herself, of course. The redhead smiled grimly, rounding the corner. The scene before here was a sight to behold—River, straight black hair held back in a ponytail, lithely twisting and snaking around the sand-filled canvas bag, giving it the full force of her fists, feet, forearms, elbows and knees.

"Bad day?" Natasha spoke. Instantly, River almost pirouetted on one foot, gracefully dropping into a smooth crouch, eyes wild. Natasha raised an eyebrow. "Wow. Really bad day. I might actually hold back from lecturing you."

River snorted, having regained her senses. "Right. If you've made up your mind, nothing, not even a kitten, could change your mind."

Natasha frowned. "What's got you in a fix today?"

"New neighbors who apparently don't have a clue what the words 'polite consideration of those around you' mean. Especially at night. Plus, they've got a three-month-old, and there's not much sheetrock in the walls," River growled, attacking the bag again, but it was more half-hearted.

"Not much sleep, then?"

River shrugged. "I know how to sleepwalk."

Natasha's frown deepened, this time with worry. "That does _not_ sound healthy. Are you… _sure_ you're okay? You know that Tony's offered you a place to stay if you need it."

"Don't need help," River mumbled.

"And you're not just avoiding everyone? Or are you avoiding Bucky and Steve?"

River looked bewildered, stepping back from the bag. "Huh? What've they got to do with anything?"

Now Natasha looked exasperated. "Please. The last anyone but Brent has seen you was when Bucky finally remembered. Did Steve tell you that not only do you have a similar personality to one of their friends from the forties, but you look like her as well? They've got a picture, one of Tony's dad's."

"And?"

"_And _you're probably the main reason Bucky recovered at all! They want to thank you, and here you are, having been avoiding them for almost a week! Do you want me to tell them you practice here? Because it's also where Steve works out."

Now River winced. "I noticed that, actually. Hard not to see the sand on the floor, and the torn-up bags in the back."

"And you never _said _anything to him?!" Natasha's voice was quiet, but filled with acid.

"Nat, come on. Didn't Fury tell you why he put me on that job? Well, it may have helped him, but it hasn't helped me."

Natasha sighed. "River, _please_, get your head out of your rear and at least talk to them!"

"And what would you have me do after that? You'd make sure we saw each other often, make sure we had some annual meeting or something, and I couldn't handle that!"

"What is _that _supposed to mean?" Natasha half yelled.

River practically exploded. "Memory! It's the one thing that I don't have. Do you know how much it hurt to see someone else regain it? To see someone else remember their name, their identity, their _life? _It's something I can't deal with, Nat."

Natasha was quiet for a moment as River turned away. "I… I hadn't realized. I had forgotten how much it hurts to see someone else have something you don't."

River looked up, a quizzical frown on her face. "What do you mean?"

Natasha smiled bitterly. "Every time I see a five-year-old cross the street, hand-in-hand with one of their parents. Something I never had, something the Red Room took from me. Something that I forgot the feeling of for the longest time, until the Winter Soldier was reactivated. He… reminded me."

"I'd heard about that. You were famous."

"More like infamous," Natasha corrected. "The two master assassins of the world, Зима Cолдат и Черный Bдова—Winter Soldier and the Black Widow."

River smiled faintly. "And what about Hочьведьма? The Nightwitch?"

The Widow snorted softly. "She was more of a… well, not nearly as well known as we were. She was basically a very deadly shadow—unseen, yet always right behind you. The Winter Soldier and I were for gathering intel, most of the time seducing our targets and getting information before killing them. The Nightwitch was reserved just for killing—no mercy, no remorse, and always simply found her target, stalked it a while, and then killed it. Always leaving no trace behind that could possibly lead to the Red Room."

"What happened to her?" River asked.

"No one knows. I think she defected not long after a mission in Brooklyn—which had failed—and I defected a short while later. When the Red Room had taken her back to put her away, she went haywire, killing dozens of Red Room agents and injuring—some fatal—most of the rest. She disappeared from the radar soon after that. S.H.I.E.L.D. has been searching for her ever since I told them about her, but she hasn't yet been found."

River took in this information, curious to know more. "Do you know what she looked like? She was one of your teachers."

Natasha shook her head. "She always kept a mask on, and never once spoke. The only thing you could see of her face was its size. Her hair was black, and long, but it could have been dyed. No one even knows how old she is, or if she's still alive."

The other considered this, tilting her head. "Must be lonely," she mused. As Natasha opened her mouth, frowning, River held up one hand. "I know, I know, Red Room conditioned her not to feel, but if she defected, maybe some of that feeling came back? She might be working undercover, even trying to make up for her wrongs."

"Or she could be running around, trying to wreak havoc," Natasha quipped. "However, I sincerely believe she's probably dead."

**Well. A bit about the Nightwitch. Or, in Russian, Hочьведьма. Yes, I looked it up. I don't speak Russian. Wish I did, but I don't. I also wish that I spoke Irish. But I'm learning Greek, so… yeah. Review! Please!**

**FF**


	6. Chapter 6

**Oh my— oh goodness— what— I don't even— I HAVE A VISITOR FROM _EGYPT?! _DUDE! SERIOUSLY?! _FREAKING EGYPT?! _OHMYWOWIFYOU'REREADINGTHISTHANYOU'REAWESOMEBECAUSEILOVEEGYPTTAKEMEWITHYOU! EGYPT! _EGYPT!_**

**I have said several times already, I DO NOT OWN ANYTHING FROM MARVEL OR STAN LEE. I only own the OCs and the storyline.**

**REVIEW REPLIES! Yarami: Thanks!**

**Guest: Soon. Soon. **

River was drawing.

A while ago, she had set herself the task of drawing everything she saw in her dreams. After maybe a month, she decided that she liked just drawing freely. Currently, she was at work on a small scene in her sketchbook; a small, scrawny boy, left arm linked with a larger, older-looking girl with dark hair. They were laughing as they walked down the street, the boy carrying a small book bag, filled with brand-new-looking paints and brushes, while the girl held multiple canvases under her left arm.

It was the remnant pieces of one of her better dreams. Most of the rest of her nighttime visions were nightmares, filled with horror. She tended to try and forget them, limiting what she put of them in the sketchbooks.

River finished the sketch with a flourish, moving to a fresh page and starting another.

This time, the scene was a bit sadder. It was also one of her better dreams, but it was one of the ones that had nearly had her sobbing into her pillow in the morning. It had the same girl, though she was obviously much older and taller, arms wrapped around a boy who looked only slightly bigger, with dark hair. Their faces were hidden, but their stances suggested that they didn't expect to see each other again for a long, long time.

River jumped as someone knocked on the door to her apartment. Quickly, she closed the sketchbook and slid it into a secret little pocket between the couch and the wall before calling out, "Hello?"

"River, it's me."

River rolled her eyes. "You could have buzzed the apartment."

She could hear Natasha snort derisively through the door. "Too noticeable. I need to talk to you. I brought you something."

"Basic description?"

"Small, rectangular, wood, glass and old paper."

River frowned at the door. "You brought me a _photo? _Of what?"

"An old photo. You take a guess."

Mentally, River filed through everything she and Natasha had conversed about that involved the word 'photo' or 'picture' in the last few days. Finally, their conversation from the day before floated across her brain.

"You stole it."

"Borrowed. Now let me in."

Sighing, River got up and opened the door. Natasha stood there, smirking smugly. "Oh, get that look off your face," River grumbled. The Russian laughed and let herself in.

Shutting the door behind her, River followed the redhead to the living room, sitting on the couch as Natasha took the black-leather armchair, photo resting, wrapped in brown paper, on her lap. She handed it to River, who took it warily.

"Well?" Natasha asked as River made no move to do anything else. "Go on, open it!"

River gave her a look before carefully untaping the bottom of the package and pulling off the crinkly brown paper. The photo was in sepia, framed by an onyx picture frame. In the center of the photo stood a young man, dressed expensively, who looked extraordinarily like Tony. On his left stood Steve, dressed in full Captain America armor, who had one arm around a pretty young woman with short dark hair and a serene smile. On Tony's lookalike's right was very obviously Bucky, grinning, dressed in his Howling Commandos uniform, and had one arm around another young woman with longer, even darker hair, and a mischievous light to her grin, whose face was identical to the one she saw in the mirror every morning.

"So?"

River deadpanned, but didn't take her eyes from the photo. "You expect me to believe that I'm almost a hundred years old?"

"No. I want you to realize what Rhiannon Morani Rheyes meant to them. Growing up, she was one of the few who stood up for Steve, and treated him like a little brother. Then, she was there to support Steve through Doctor Abraham Erksine's serum, as well as when he was Captain America, as a spy—sort of like my job with S.H.I.E.L.D.—for the Allied forces. Plus, Steve believes that there was a chance that Erksine had given Rhia a very subpar version of the serum, because she was one of his bodyguards. The HYDRA agent that killed Doctor Erksine managed to catch her off-guard when she was congratulating Steve, apparently.

"And look at the facts—you look exactly like Rhia, though your temper is a bit shorter and your hair is longer; Rhia supposedly died by throwing herself into the East River—"

"Why would she do that, anyway?" River suddenly interrupted.

Natasha shrugged. "Her little sister said she was muttering things to herself as she went out the door, and her mother had had a big fight with her before she left. Anyways, my point is that Rhia threw herself into the East River, and your _name _is River. And, you brought Bucky Barnes back to his senses. Somehow."

River sighed again, finally putting the paper back over the photo. "It's a nice theory, Nat," she said. "But I just can't believe something and then realize it's not true. S.H.I.E.L.D. didn't pull me out of the ocean."

"Then maybe someone else did."

River scowled. "Now that is _not _a comforting thought. Thanks."

Natasha threw up her hands. "I'm serious!"

"What, you think I was the Nightwitch before S.H.I.E.L.D. found me?"

That silenced the redhead for a moment. "Actually I was going to say that maybe you were found by a fishing boat or something and then ran off once you were close to land, but… your fighting style is unbelievably similar to the Nightwitch, now that I think about it." Her voice, face and stance were all serious. "I would know, I suppose. You use the same preferred weapons, and you both have a habit of being invincible."

River groaned, leaning back against the couch. "I was kidding. And I suppose there isn't any video or photo footage of the Nightwitch that you can compare me to?"

"She was too good for that. _You're _too good for that."

"The Red Room or the KGB or whatever wouldn't have had something? A record?"

That surprised Natasha. "They might have… I'll ask Fury."

"And you'll give _this _back to its owner," River said forcefully, handing her the photo. Natasha smirked. "Fine."

**Well. There ya go. People are gonna be yelling at me now, aren't they?**

**Ah, well. Please review! It makes me smile!**

**FF**


	7. Chapter 7

**WELL HELLO THERE! I ONLY OWN THE OCS AND THE STORYLINE, EVERYTHING ELSE BELONGS TO STAN LEE AND MARVEL. MY CAPS LOCK BUTTON IS BEING WEIRD… Oh, there we go. ****:D**

**Review Replies! **

**Guest: HEY! TAKE ME WITH YOU! Now, if I can just get a plane to Cairo…**

**Yarami: Thanks!**

**Stinker126: Haha, thank you.**

**Emster: Ah, don't worry. They'll have a meeting… possibly in ****this chapter. ;)**

Bucky was agitated.

And that made Steve nervous.

Sure, it was hard to get bored at Stark Tower—for one thing, Tony himself (and often Bruce Banner) were around 24/7, and there was plenty to do in the way of gadgets and technology. In the two separate gyms, there was plenty of room to work out and/or spar with someone.

But apparently, Bucky wasn't in the state of mind to be easily amused by these things. Usually, if he wasn't in the gym, pushing his body to the limits (and they were hard to reach), he was moping around, sometimes staring at random pictures from their era or reading a book that was old now, but had been a brand-new award-winning best-seller in the forties.

And then, once moping around got boring, he'd get up and pace. And pace. And pace.

Steve was wondering if he should ask Natasha to drag River over to calm him down. She had mentioned doing so once, but Steve didn't want to inconvenience the raven in any way.

He supposed that part of the problem was that Bucky couldn't get out. Under strict orders from Fury, he was not allowed outside the property limits of Stark Tower. Steve had asked several times what was bothering his old friend, but Bucky just shrugged irritably and continued pacing.

Fortunately, today was one of the days that Bucky was sparring with Steve. Their old fighting patterns were a good remedy for both their tormented souls, and often led to both of them reminiscing old memories of being out on the battlefield with the Commandos.

Suddenly, JARVIS's British-accented voice cut through to their thoughts. "Sirs, Agent Romanoff wishes to speak with you. She is waiting in the Avengers common area."

Bucky, out of force of habit, momentarily looked around for the source of the voice before remembering that JARVIS was an AI. "Thanks," he said. "What's Nat wanting?"

"Agent Romanoff wishes to show the both of you footage from the archives of the KGB and Red Room, sir."

Bucky frowned. "Why would Natasha want to show us that?"

"She says you will have to come and see for yourself," replied JARVIS.

"Thanks," he said again, grumbling slightly. Steve chuckled as they headed for the stairs.

Natasha was indeed waiting in the Avengers common area, arms folded and foot tapping impatiently. Her expression looked mildly annoyed. When the two friends topped the stairs, she waved them over to the computer, revealing a small hard drive in one hand. She plugged it into the outlet as Bucky and Steve moved to stand over each shoulder. When Bucky asked her what the heck she was doing, Natasha replied sharply, "Just watch."

A window popped up, heavily pixellated before smoothing. It showed a large room, completely devoid of furniture save for racks of weapons on each wall. In the center stood two women; one of them was clearly a much Natasha, crouching like a wild animal, watching the other warily. The older woman, clothed head-to-toe in black, including her whole face, was also crouched, but looked much more relaxed, completely confident in her abilities.

"The Nightwitch," Bucky breathed. "Where did you get this and _why_?"

Natasha smiled grimly as her younger self moved forward to attack, wincing unnoticeably when the imposing assassin grabbed Natasha's fist and counter-attacked. "River. She said something the other day, made me think that S.H.I.E.L.D. probably had footage. And they did. Besides—" she winced again as a blow from the Nightwitch sent her tumbling. "—River's fighting style is similar to the Nightwitch."

Bucky frowned. "Fighting style?"

"She and I meet up at a dojo once or twice a week. And what's the point of being at a dojo if you don't do martial arts, anyway?" Natasha replied. "I only recently realized that they're similar. Something she said, actually."

"You think she's the Nightwitch." It was a statement, not a question.

"Yes, I do," Natasha replied.

"How?!" Bucky exclaimed.

Natasha rolled her eyes. "That's for her to tell you, not me. I'll make sure to bring her over at some point, don't worry. Even if I have to drag her by the ears."

Steve immediately protested. "Oh, you don't have to do that—"

"Damn right she doesn't," said a voice from the stairwell. Bucky jumped as Natasha raised an elegant red eyebrow. "River. Didn't expect you here."

The raven rolled her violet eyes. "Stark called. Apparently he and Bruce need some help in the lab."

"I never got why they always ask you and not Jane," Natasha stated curiously.

River shrugged. "I have no idea. Ask them." Tossing her hair over her shoulder and causing Bucky's heart to clench at the similarity between her and Rhia, she continued up the stairs. Natasha frowned as her feet disappeared. "She thinks I might actually be right," the redhead murmured under her breath.

Steve frowned. "Why do you say that?"

"She was snappy. Usually she's not so sharp. She saw the footage and realizes it's now a distinct possibility that she's the Nightwitch and it bothers her."

"If she was the Nightwitch, wouldn't she know?" Bucky asked wearily.

Natasha gave him an appraising glance. "It's hard to remember much if you're an amnesiac."

"She's _what?!"_

"Keep it down!" Natasha shushed Steve. "Yes, she is. It's why she was asked by Fury to be put on the recovery of Barnes here."

"It's also why we haven't seen hide or hair of her, isn't it?" Bucky said softly. "It was hard for her to see someone else regain her memory, especially when she doesn't know who she herself is."

Natasha nodded sadly.

**Whew! That was surprisingly difficult. I know a lot of you were looking forward to a bit of Bucky/River reuniting stuffs, but Natasha tells the truth. And now River, after seeing from afar what the Nightwitch can do, is bothered by it and needs time to think. Not that she's gonna get much of that while helping out the mad scientists in the lab…**

**Anyways, review! PLEASE!**

**FF**


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